The Serb walked around for a moment, gave each body a shove, then exited the building.
Another fifteen minutes passed. Quinn wanted to wait longer, but knew they couldn’t chance it. Finally, he said, “Now.”
Skyler started the engine and pulled out.
“Don’t rush,” Quinn reminded him. “Nice and easy. Like a routine you do every day.”
Per their plan, Skyler didn’t drive directly to the entrance of the garage. Instead he drove a route that took him around several buildings in the immediate vicinity, checking for Borko and his men.
They found no sign of them.
“What about SCG?” Glaze asked. “We were transferring her to them. Their guys have to be here somewhere.”
Quinn shook his head. “Their guys never made it.”
As Skyler drove toward the garage, Quinn handed Glaze two pairs of gloves. One pair was the lightweight rubber kind doctors used. The other was also rubber, only heavy duty — janitor gloves, extra tough. He and Skyler had similar sets.
“What are these for?” Glaze said.
“You’re going to have to help us,” Quinn said. “Gloves on at all times. Surgical first, then the others over the top. Only take the thick ones off if you need to do detailed work. But be careful. No prints. You get a tear, you let me know. I’ll get you another pair.”
Quinn could still see the fear in the other man’s eyes. But to Glaze’s credit, he didn’t protest.
“One more thing. When we’re inside, I do the talking. No comments. No unnecessary noise. If you have a question, okay. But think it through first and keep it brief. Understand?”
“I understand.” Glaze’s voice was a dry whisper.
At the garage, Quinn entered first, slipping in through the back door and making a quick search of the facility. Except for the bodies, they were alone.
Despite not expecting any casualties, Quinn had come prepared with plenty of plastic sheeting. He, Skyler, and Glaze were able to get the bodies wrapped quickly, securing each package with duct tape, then loaded them into the back of the van. It was a tight fit, but they were able to get them all in. All, that is, except the civilian shot while running for the door.
“Not yet,” Quinn said when the other two moved to wrap the man up.
Instead, he had them turn their attention to the blood on the cement. While Skyler and Glaze mopped up the excess fluids, Quinn searched the garage. He found several bags of absorbent sand, probably used to soak up motor oil spills. Quinn brought one of the bags over to where the murders had occurred.
As Skyler and Glaze finished, Quinn poured sand over the wet spots on the concrete to draw out as much of the blood as possible. He knew there would be a stain, but the plan he had in mind would deal with that.
While the sand did its work, Quinn and his team did a detailed search of the room, collecting all the brass left over from the gunfire. When they were done, Quinn stood still for a moment, taking in the room.
“Toolbox,” he said to Skyler.
Skyler immediately walked over and picked up the abandoned box, then set it by the door so they’d take it with them when they left. They had already found the screwdriver. Borko had conveniently left it shoved up one of the asset’s nostrils.
To Glaze, Quinn said, “Scoop up the sand. I notice a box of heavy-duty trash bags under the workbench. If you don’t fill them too much, they should be able to hold everything. When you’re done, get the wet-dry vacuum from the van to make sure you get it all.”
“What about him?” Skyler said, nodding toward the dead mechanic by the door.
“We leave him here,” Quinn said. “There’s spray paint in the kit in the back of the van. Tag a few of the vehicles, some of the walls.”
They would make it look like an act of vandalism gone bad. To cover the bloodstains, Quinn would open one of the fifty-gallon drums of used motor oil, letting it spill over the entire floor. Hide one crime scene with another. And at least this way, one family would have some kind of closure.
Quinn gave the room one final look before they left. It was a good job, and, surprisingly, it had gone quickly. Only eighteen minutes by his watch. But it wasn’t their handiwork that stuck in his mind as he climbed into the van. It was Borko and that goddamn screwdriver.
Karma was something Quinn was pretty sure existed. Only in his mind it wasn’t perfect. Some people got away with some pretty bad shit. If Borko’s karma ever came back at him, it was going to be hellish. And for just a moment, Quinn was not opposed to exacting some of the payment himself.
“Have you ever dealt with anything like that before?” Glaze asked as they drove away.
“It’s what we do,” Quinn said.
“Are they all like that?”
“I’ve seen worse,” Quinn lied.
Quinn ordered another beer. It was nearing midnight, and the Saigon evening had finally turned pleasant. Still warm, but the humidity had dropped to bearable levels. There were about a dozen or so other people spread out across the rooftop dining area. But at the bar there was only Quinn and the bartender.
Quinn took a deep drink from the bottle before setting it down on the counter. It had been six years since that incident in Toronto, yet Quinn had still never encountered another incident as brutal.
Borko.
Shit.
He raised his beer to his lips and finished it off.
“Another,” he said to the bartender.
CHAPTER 16
The next morning there was another message from Duke.
Xavier,
We’re on. Need you in Berlin by Sunday. You are registered as Donald Bragg at the Dorint Hotel Am Gendarmenmarkt. Contact information and update after you arrive. Advise any arrangements I need to make for your team.
P4J
Quinn sent Duke a confirmation.
“We’re definitely leaving today,” Quinn said.
He and Nate were sitting with Orlando at the table in her dining room eating pho—Vietnamese soup — that Trinh had made. Quinn had already filled both of them in on his meeting with Piper, leaving out only the part about Leo Tucker tailing Nate. Though Orlando was aware Piper and his team were in Ho Chi Minh City, she was pleased to hear they weren’t aware of her.
Quinn turned his attention to the job in Berlin. “Were you able to find anyone for me?”
“I don’t want you to argue with me about this,” Orlando said, her eyes locking on his. “It makes the most sense.”
“No,” Quinn said, realizing where she was headed.
“I’m the logical choice. There’s going to be a lot of surveillance going on. That means a ton of data that needs to be processed and analyzed. That’s what I do. I’m the best and you know it.” She paused. “There’s no choice here, Quinn. You need me. And I’m coming.”
“We can do this without you,” he said. “There are others who can handle it.”
She stood, picking up her empty bowl of soup. “I’ve already got my ticket,” she said. “I leave tomorrow.”
Nate looked down at his bowl of pho as if it had suddenly become the most important thing in the world.
“Dammit!” Quinn said. He stood and followed her into the kitchen. “I said I don’t need you.”
“My son will be fine while I’m gone.”
“I didn’t say anything about him,” Quinn said.
She set the empty bowl in the sink, then looked at Quinn for a moment. “But it’s what you’re worried about.”